


it’s one of those nights

by owlsshadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Third Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows
Summary: It’s one of those nights when Tora finds it hard to fall asleep; when his heart beats just too fast in his chest and his brain flashes images of the day on repeat, and he struggles to hush his never-ending train of thoughts.It’s one of those nights when he’s afraid to close his eyes because his dreams lie in ambush to hunt him down, rile him up and drive him absolutely crazy.In which Tora has a crush and he doesn't know how to deal with it.





	it’s one of those nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stacysmash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stacysmash/gifts).



> ... is it bad to make joystick jokes in the context of a hand job?

It’s one of those nights when the summer heat makes skin sticky soon after a shower and the snoring of teammates resonates off the walls mixed with the sound of cicadas outside. It’s one of those nights when Tora finds it hard to fall asleep; when his heart beats just too fast in his chest and his brain flashes images of the day on repeat, and he struggles to hush his never-ending train of thoughts.

It’s one of those nights when he’s afraid to close his eyes, for his dreams lie in ambush to hunt him down, rile him up and drive him absolutely crazy.

It’s one of those nights when Tora stares at his empty hand in the faint moonlight and recalls the way their high five felt during the match, sending his mind to an overdrive. And as he tosses and turns, his throat goes dry again, chasing him to the corridor for the umpteenth time, empty glass in hand. It’s one of those nights when the struggle overcomes him. He bares his teeth and he growls at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, failing to frighten the greed away.

Lately, it has become harder, keeping this overwhelming desire under control. He wants to hold that hand longer than a high five. He wants to entwine their fingers and caress the thin wrist that seems so weak, like a twig threatening to break apart. He wants to push the curtain of hair out of the way and stare at Kenma’s face in the open. He wants to look into those yellow eyes of his, try to read him like a book. He itches to touch Kenma’s thick, long hair, and tug at it while kissing.

He wants to cradle Kenma in his arms. He craves to bury his face in the shoulder of his setter, to litter kisses along Kenma’s collarbone and run his hands down his sides, to feel his ribs against his fingers and his skin beneath his palm. He imagines the touch of Kenma’s hipbone under his hands and longs for the sensation of hearing Kenma’s moan in his ear.

The freshly filled glass of water forgotten by the sink, Tora sinks his trembling hands in his hair, tearing at the roots and hoping that the pain is enough to wash his thoughts away and clear his mind.

That is when Kenma sneaks upon him with weightless, soundless steps, poking his shoulder.

“Tora?” he asks, his voice curious and unsuspecting. “What are you doing here? it’s 3 am.”

“Are you for real?” is the first question that leaves Tora’s lips because Kenma had made no noise entering the bathroom and because he is so tired and tortured he wouldn’t be surprised if his brain played a trick on him.

“I woke up early,” Kenma replies, “thought I could get some gaming done before breakfast.”

“You’re for real.”

“Does that surprise you?” Kenma lifts a brow, amused.

“Nah. I’m just… tired I guess,” Tora shrugs, secretly glad that he wore his baggy shorts to sleep as they hide his half-erect penis from the subject of his lust.

“Can’t sleep?”

Tora nods and his insides shriek as Kenma steps closer.

“Something bothers you.”

“No-nothing to worry ‘bout.”

“You seem troubled lately,” Kenma continues, tilting his head in a way that reveals a wide patch of his neck. “Is it because we made you captain?”

To this, Tora can’t reply. He gulps down hard, casting his eyes away to look at anything but Kenma’s milky white skin, iridescent under the cold bathroom lights.

“I’m sorry to put all the burden on you, just because I didn’t want to do it. I start to think it was a terrible decision.”

“It’s not!! That!!!” Tora snaps, turning back frustrated.

His heart stops as his nose brushes against Kenma’s, who had moved even closer to him without him noticing.

“But it’s my fault,” Kenma says unfazed.

“No,” Tora says. “It’s entirely my fault.”

“So something does bother you.”

“I didn’t say…”

“It’s clear as day, Tora,” Kenma says then, his voice gentle as he reaches up to smoothen the wrinkle out between Tora’s brows. “You’ve been skittish.” Such a particular choice of words, Tora muses, getting lost in the gaze of Kenma’s sharp eyes. “Your game is not as sharp as usual, even the team is affected by it,” Kenma continues, and as his lips move, so does Tora’s focus, dropping to the soft, cushiony pink of Kenma’s mouth. “With Shouhei, we’ve been wondering if…”

“It’s not… volleyball related,” Tora cuts in. He closes his eyes to stop himself from practically climbing Kenma on spot, but he can feel his entire face heat up. “I’m sorry if I troubled the team, if my issues come in the way of the team, I may not be worthy of the captain title at all.”

“Now, you’re overreacting.”

“We’re in the middle of a training camp, just before preliminaries, and I’m breaking down inconveniencing the entire team. How is that overreacting?”

“You’re troubled,” Kenma states softly. “But you’re not alone. If something bothers you, you can always come to us. Shouhei and I are always here to listen.”

“It’s not something I can… just… share.”

“Is it about school?”

“No…”

“Love then?”

The question comes unexpected, and Tora blinks in response.

“Love?”

“Well… Karasuno’s pretty manager had graduated, but you have been flailing over Yachi’s ‘glow up’ with Nishinoya and Tanaka before…”

“No no no, it’s not about Yacchan!” Tora is quick to deny the assumption, and before he can stop himself, he adds: “I just have some pent up frustration I guess? Heh. It happens to all…”

“I see,” Kenma interrupts him and there’s something in his tone that makes Tora hold his breath. Kenma sounds like he has never heard him before. “Your tasks have multiplied since we elected you as captain, so you didn’t have time for yourself.”

If Tora had to put a name to it, he would call it almost lewd.

“See,” he says flustered, “it’s not something you can help with…”

“Why not?”

“Why not?!” Tora repeats, basically squealing.

Kenma dares to raise his brows in reply as if it was surprising that his teammate freaks out at his suggestion.

“Yeah, why not,” he replies, moving even closer, hand brushing almost casually against the front of Tora’s pants. “I heard it feels better if someone else does it.”

“But!!! It’s not…”

“Are you against it?” Kenma raises his hands, sweeping past the hardening bulge in Tora’s pants lightly.

“I… we are in public!”

“It’s 3 am. No one would notice us.”

“Still, it’s…”

“Do you hate the idea of me touching you then?”

“I just don’t understand why would you…” Tora breathes, pinching his thigh to double check: this is real. His dreams pale in comparison, still, he fights it… it’s different, after all, dreaming about touching Kenma, and Kenma actually offering to touch him.

The latter is way more dangerous.

“If you feel good, you do better at volleyball, It’s good for the team, good for me too. Besides,” Kenma gives him a sharp glance from behind half-mast lids, “your dick is a cute one.”

“Wha-?”

Kenma leans in, pressing flush against Tora.

“You’re not the only one who checks people out in the showers,” he whispers. “Though I’d like to believe I’m subtler.”

Tora lets out a shaky breath, followed by a sharp inhale as Kenma’s hand finds the hem of his shorts.

“So?” Kenma asks.

“What so?”

A finger curves under the fabric. A nail filed short scrapes against the sensitive skin above Tora’s hipbone.

Tora bites his lower lip, painfully aware that by now he is fully erect and with the way they stand Kenma also knows it.

“Do you accept help?” Kenma breathes.

“Didn’t you want to play on your game?” Tora utters one last, desperate argument before succumbing to the temptation.

Instead of a reply, Kenma pulls his finger down in one movement, dragging the shorts off Tora, whose manhood springs free for Kenma’s free hand to cup it immediately.

Tora heaves a sigh, shuddering from the touch.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

“It's like a joystick,” Kenma says as if it explained everything. Tora is not in a position to comment, not on the shape of his own cock in the hand of the subject of his wet dreams. Kenma flashes a fiendish little smile as his thumb caresses the tip, and Tora feels as if he missed the punchline of a joke, as if Kenma's comment was not entirely about a shape comparison, but something more, and he wonders if he was more enlightened, should he had paid more attention to English class.

“Just… don’t move it like a joystick,” Tora swallows hard.

“Hn,” Kenma hums with a smile on his face as he continues his ministrations, coating the tip with pre-cum. “I’m fine standing, but you may wish to… find something to lean against?” he offers after his first gentle tug sends violent shivers down Tora’s entire body.

Tora grabs onto Kenma’s elbow and pulls him onto himself as he walks up to the tap. His shorts fall between steps, hanging around his ankles aimlessly. The counter feels cold against his now bare bottom, but Tora feels grateful to show his back to the mirror – he isn’t sure he will survive this whole ordeal, but if he caught his own reflection in the middle of it, he would for sure perish on spot.

With his free hand, Kenma holds Tora’s hip firm. Tora holds him by his shoulders in return and buries his head in the hollow where Kenma’s neck meets his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his shampoo, the scent of fabric softener and the faint sour tinge of sweat. It feels all so familiar, but so strange at the same time.

He wants to kiss down on the skin, slightly damp from sweat – but this is not his dream, where his hands can roam free on Kenma’s body with no repercussions. Kenma… the real Kenma is touching him, to help him and whatever other reason hides behind his comments on Tora’s cock. But that doesn’t mean that the real Kenma would want any touch in return. He had never been big on touches and hugs. He changed a lot, in front of Tora’s eyes, since the first time they had met: the strange, somewhat gloomy, shy but outspoken kid has grown into a more daring person, someone more careful with his words but more open about his gestures. The Kenma of today calls him Tora and gives him a high-five after a successful play. The Kenma of two years ago wouldn’t call him by his name and fought him at every occasion.

He changed a lot – but essentially, he is still Kenma, the person Tora treasures the most.

He has already messed up plenty, being so obvious that Kenma noticed his glances and his frustration – and even worse, that he allowed Kenma to touch him.

He wanted this to happen differently. He wanted their connection to start with open cards, feelings laid down on the table. He wanted to confess and ask Kenma out. He wanted to properly woo him, going one step at a time.

He wanted to hold hands as they went home together.

He wanted to cuddle up as they watched a movie together.

He definitely wanted for their lips to touch before Kenma grabbed his cock.

Determined not to kiss him without his consent, but simultaneously too worked up and too afraid to ask for permission, Tora settles for small, caressing motions with his nose against Kenma’s skin.

Kenma takes his sweet time pumping his cock, his thrusts are slow but heavy, and Tora can’t help but shudder at each and every one of them, blowing a tuft of air in Kenma’s neck.

He wants Kenma to finish fast – to be quick and businesslike, to make this as technical as possible because the long, steady strokes draw out pained noises from Tora. With each and every move, Tora feels more and more light-headed; he is so close but so far at the same time, he might open his mouth and utter Kenma’s name, and urge him to a faster tempo while confessing his love for him over and over again.

“Argh,” he moans against Kenma’s neck, and his lips get caught on the slightly sticky skin of Kenma, dragging a wet line down the edge of his collarbone.

Kenma heaves in return, his hand rising up from Tora’s hip to his head, and he tugs into the mohawk of his hair to pry his face away from his skin. He stares at Tora with hazy eyes before he leans in, meeting his lips with his own.

Kenma’s kiss is hot and stuffy, filled with unsaid words and confessions, each of which Tora swallows, drinking never-said promises off Kenma’s lips.

Tora’s hands fly up to Kenma’s face, cupping it frantically before they roam down Kenma’s arms to his sides, and he scrapes at the hem of Kenma’s pants desperately as he deepens their kiss.

Kenma murmurs something into his lips, but his words have no meaning.

Tora tugs at the piece of clothing separating him from Kenma’s erection, but Kenma squeezes his cock in reply just so and breaks away from the kiss.

“You first,” he breathes against Tora. “Me after.”

“To-together?” Tora stutters, but he knows it’s too late, he knows the moment Kenma picks up his pace, that he is a goner within seconds.

He comes hard and fast, spilling his seed all over his and Kenma’s shirt.

“See,” Kenma sighs, sounding almost proud.

There’re so many things Tora wants to say: sorry, thank you, I love you. What comes out instead sounds a little needy.

“Kiss.”

Kenma gives out a huff of a laugh, reaching with one hand behind Tora to pull him down for a kiss. Tora meets his open lips fervently, while his still shaky hands work on Kenma’s pants. Once he rid of them, his hands reach under Kenma’s bottom, grabbing him by his thighs and lifting him up. He still feels weak in his knees, so it’s not the smoothest of movements, but he manages to turn with Kenma in his arms and to place him on top of the counter.

Mirror be damned, he wants Kenma seated.

“Oh,” Kenma says, face flushed but snickering. “I didn’t think I would be so light.”

“You’re surprisingly heavy,” Tora heaves for air, and Kenma’s giggle surrounds him like the bells of heaven, sending his head spinning, “but I love you,” he stutters without thinking.

There’s a split second that panic freezes his veins before Kenma resumes laughing.

“Thought so!” he says, grabbing Tora’s chin in his hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “Good thing I love you too.”

“Did you really wake up because you wanted to play games?” Tora asks suspiciously.

“I might have followed the guy who I liked and who seemed troubled by unnecessary worries,” Kenma replies, angling his head to deepen their kiss, “but does it matter?”

“Sneaky bastard.”

He holds Kenma’s hand, entwining their fingers while his thumb caresses Kenma’s thin wrist. With his free hand, he pushes Kenma’s hair away from his face and stares at it for a while.

“Didn’t you want to return a favor, Tora?” Kenma says, hooking his legs around Tora’s torso and pulling him closer.

“I did,” Tora breathes in reply. “I do.”

Discarding Kenma’s shirt, he cradles him in his arms. He litters kisses along Kenma’s collarbone and runs his hands down Kenma’s side, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palms.

It’s enthralling, the way Kenma’s hips fit in his hands, the way his thighs open at his smallest gesture, the way Kenma moans as he settles between his legs and takes his cock in his hands.

It’s one of those nights, the first, in fact, when Tora is glad he is awake.

The regret of staying up until dawn will eventually arrive – most likely within a few hours when his teammates poke him awake.

But for now, he couldn’t be happier to be awake.


End file.
